Page 102 of Ensnaring the Siren

Why wouldn’t Hatcher say that he knew someone on the case? That he’d lost someone?

“You know him.” It wasn’t a question. And Reid wasn’t going to insult the reporter with a denial. But he wasn’t about to throw Hatcher under the bus either. There had to be a reasonable explanation, but something about this made Reid’s brain damn right itchy.

None of them knew what Nautic was doing to the merfolk at the time. Maybe the more they found out, the harder it got for Hatcher to admit he’d been friends with one of the fishermen. Or maybe to him that information didn’t feel pertinent to the investigation, especially if it didn’t impact how he did his job…

Reid gripped the phone tighter, the numb feeling burning away for something red hot.

A firm hand clasped his shoulder. Killian. “Reid, are you okay?”

No. No, he was not.

It had affected how Hatcher did his job, hadn’t it?

Dropping the evidence collected from Gale’s Promise. The cheap flip phone. The secretive calls.

It only made Reid’s brain itchier, his skin hotter.

He turned on the microphone of his aviation headset. “Perez, where’s Hatcher? Did he get recalled too?”

“Nah. He’s on leave.”

“So he doesn’t know we’ve detained The Seriphus?”

“No…why?”

“Might be nothing.”

Only, he didn’t think it was nothing. And what he wanted to do next would probably get him in trouble with the Coast Guard and the FBI. He wasn’t supposed to insert himself into an active investigation. He didn’t have the authority.

Fuck it. He reached for The Seriphus’s satellite phone.

“The Seriphus called a number repeatedly from their sat phone. I’m going to see who it is.”

“Kruetz, I don’t think you should…”

“I don’t care.” Reid dialed the number. “I have to know.”

“Know what? What’s going on?”

“Shh. It’s ringing. Just listen.” Reid held the sat phone receiver close to the mic.

It rang four times before there was a click on the other end, a familiar voice answering, “Hatcher.”

Reid’s blood flashed hot, then cold. It was one thing to suspect, another to hear it confirmed. This was real, the ugly math added up and shoved in his face. Nautic had an inside man, a mole, and it was Jake Fucking Hatcher. Someone he thought he knew.

Before he could pile stupid on top of stupid, like tell Hatcher he was a lying, traitorous sack of shit, Reid quietly hung up the satellite phone and set it aside. Threading his fingers behind his head, he tilted his face to the sky and sucked in a deep breath. Fuck!

How long had Hatcher been working for these murderers? And what kind of information was he feeding them? He had access to ship tracking information, all of NOAA’s “be on the lookout” orders and fly over plans, and he’d know the whereabouts of Coast Guard assets. There were any number of things he could’ve tipped Nautic off about.

They needed to tell command.

“Perez, did you get that?”

Silence followed, then a quiet, “Yeah, I got that.”

Hours passed waiting for the FBI to arrive. Ten long, sleepless hours for the news about Hatcher’s betrayal to stew and fester. Reid should’ve pressed him harder when things felt off, and he should’ve questioned why Hatcher always seemed to have something to say in defense of Nautic or its fishermen. The signs had been there. He just missed them.

Perez passed the information on to Lieutenant Commander Griffin, who then informed the FBI. Aside from an order to stand down on any further action, there was no word yet on what consequences Reid would face for taking matters into his own hands, but his conscience was clear, even if his stomach churned.

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